


tougenkyou winter

by antagonists



Series: Summoner AU [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4198437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘Dearest Shinsengumi, if you are going south to rip Takasugi’s balls off, the most entitled man would have to be Sakata Gintoki. I can attest to the size of his pair, and I’m sure if you ask your Vice-Commander, he would agree as well. Elizabeth is looking her absolute cutest with her pink ribbons. I bid you all stupendous day. Elizabeth gives her blessings as well. XOXO, Katsura.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	tougenkyou winter

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be 10000% serious and not even remotely close to 13k  
> but sorachi's been stabbing me and everyone else in the face with flaming projectiles lately so
> 
> i used [this](http://www-cs-students.stanford.edu/~amitp/game-programming/polygon-map-generation/demo.html) to generate a random country map for this au.

+

 

 

Winter is long and numbing in the land of Edo, slowly spreading through old civilizations like the fall of dust on gravestones. It’s during lulls like this that the land’s underground inhabitants seem to waltz out into the night air, smelling the freedom that comes with freezing weather and timid suns.

 

Or, from Hijikata’s perspective, it’s when all the troublesome Summoners make their appearances, especially those with contracts with disease and chill. Last year, the Shinsengumi had had to deal with six separate cases of plague Summoners, and even now he can feel winter fingers digging into his bones from the injury from then.

 

Their destination this time is Yoshiwara, a rumored location for dozens and dozens of vagrant Summoners, all with ties to the tragically late King’s rule and heavy embitterment of law. Summoners, though still common, can’t move around as freely as they had done in the past.

 

Yoshiwara is in the northmost region of Edo, located on an island in the middle of a deep and large lake. It is a straight fortnight’s trek from where they had been on the warmer, central West shore, shrouded in fog throughout the night and a majority of the day. Its location always seems to shift with the seasons, a little island amidst all the fog and mystery. Hijikata has personally never been there, but Kondo loudly recalls that despite the thick air, there are good spring waters and onsen. It’s exciting their squad unnecessarily—they’re going to work, not slack off—and it worsens his constant irritation with, well, everything really.

 

He adjusts the pack on his shoulders and glares out at the hint of the first sun peeking over the horizon. Where they normally patrol in the West, they’re fortunate enough to get two or three suns during the winter, but Yoshiwara would be extremely lucky to even have one year-round. Here, close to Kabuki Village, they only see one sun throughout all seasons, and he’s grateful that at least they won’t be thrown into complete darkness for another few days. Hijikata suspects that the attractiveness of perpetual night days allows even more trouble to fester up north, and though he’s not keen on going, he doesn’t like sitting around shaking his head and sighing at bad news.

 

Double checking that his pendant is secure around his neck, he does another round inspecting the inn to make sure that Yamazaki hasn’t left behind any confidential missions briefings again. It’s another several minutes before he’s satisfied enough with the lack of possessions that he finally exits the inn, thanking the owner for their stay during the sudden blizzard.

 

In order to reach Yoshiwara, they’ve already traveled north along the inner shores and are in the middle of traveling through the Kabuki Range. The mountains are treacherous around this time of year, so Hijikata’s made sure to bring along some elemental Summoners so they won’t be shaken around by the winds and snow too much while they’re scaling the heights. Even if Sougo is terrible with self-control and respecting Hijikata, he can at least do a decent job of melting away snow with a simple wave of his hand.

 

“Dearest Vice Commander,” Sougo calls from his ugly, neon, feathery disaster of a mount. “We’re all inconvenienced by waiting on your slow ass. Isn’t timeliness one of our basic guidelines? That’s seppuku for you.”

 

Hijikata scoffs, lets himself drop from the last step onto the thick snowfall from last night, and whistles to call his own beast out from the mass. He ignores Sougo for the most part, since paying attention when he’s not in imminent danger makes his head hurt. That isn’t saying much, though, since he’s in imminent danger almost all the time.

 

With the first sun already halfway up and the second slowly rising, the winter chill dissipates the slightest bit. Hijikata pulls his scarf up to ward his throat from the biting wind, his fingers cold even through his leather gloves.

 

Winter has barely started and yet he’s already cold and miserable. They won’t be quite so fortunate once they get to Yoshiwara, since that place is home to many criminals for a reason. The Shinsengumi will have to stay there for the majority of this winter; word has it that one of the biggest Summoners is calling for a rally there, and Hijikata will die before he lets someone retake the rusted throne of the past. Crime rates aren’t nearly as high as they had been during the war several years back with all the new regulations, but the cursed demons of those times haven’t all died off quite yet.

 

Summoners like Katsura give the Shinsengumi a hard time since his summons are always so destructive in nature. They take forms of explosives worse than Sougo’s, pillars of fire that people mistake as dragon’s breath, seething sparks like the grind of metal on metal. Hijikata has met the terrorist, once, and remembers distinctly the snarls of long black hair and eyes like angry fire. Well, it’s been a few years since Katsura has actually made something _explode_ , but once a pyromaniac, always a pyromaniac, right?

 

As if taunting his hardships, the two suns in the sky glare through the snowy haze like glinting eyes.

 

“Once we reach Kabuki Village,” Kondo is saying, “we’ll be following the lead of the guides there. Paths leading to Yoshiwara are nearly impossible to navigate without experienced guides, so be sure not to stray far. Never go anywhere alone, understood?”

 

The last part seems to be iterated specifically for Hijikata, since he does have a notorious streak for ditching his men and investigating on his own. He sighs irritatedly, grumbling an affirmative before nudging his mount forwards. It’ll be another stretch of four days to reach the village. Four days of snow and icy winds chillier than their worst nightmares.

 

First, they’ll let the frost seep into their bones. Then their bodies will become victims of Yoshiwara’s night. If they are lucky, perhaps they will return with their minds intact.

 

 

+

 

 

The small unit that Hijikata had arranged is split into groups of two. According to the guides, it is best to travel in units of three across the lake; any more than that, and there might be some unforeseeable consequences. This arrangement doesn’t bother Hijikata too much, but he instantly regrets everything when Kondo pairs him with Sougo.

 

“ _Why_ ,” he seethes, and Kondo merely laughs at him.

 

“We’ll all have to take separate paths as well,” says a smart boy with a plain face that even Hijikata can’t hate. “Please don’t be alarmed at the arrangements. We’ve been assigned to all take you safely to Yoshiwara, so we’d like your cooperation to make this a bit easier. If you listen to us, your guides, we assure you that nothing harmful will befall you on the way there. If you have any questions before we leave, please direct them to me.”

 

Hijikata has heard of these people before, of course. They are one of the stranger groups of Edo that reside right next to Lake Toyo, known to have many strong Summoners in their midst. None of them really _look_ particularly strong, except that one girl who keeps smiling threateningly at Kondo.

 

To be honest, all of the guides aside from the bespectacled boy look suspicious to some degree. From the girl with fiery hair and eyes like water, Hijikata moves his eyes down the line and ends on a woman in red glasses who keeps glancing furtively in their direction. In front of him, his guide dangles one leg lazily from his seat on the higher edge of his boat. Everything about him is pale, except, perhaps, his thrilling eyes the color of blood. Beside him, several empty cartons of strawberry milk lay scattered around.

 

“Yo,” he waves, voice untelling. He wears a headband with _LAKE TOYO_ emblazoned across the front in bold calligraphy.  His messy hair flops in the breeze, and Hijikata notes with mild interest that the water of the lake does not seem to move. “I’m your guide.”

 

“I noticed,” Hijikata replies drily. “When do we depart?”

 

Their guide squints up at the sky as if searching for something. “Dunno. Soon. We’ll leave when Pachi boy is all done with his educational speech.”

 

“How informative.”

 

Shrugging, the guide moves to pick his nose. Hijikata recoils when there’s a flicking motion, hand immediately going to the hilt of his sword. At this, Sougo rolls his eyes and steps past the guide onto the boat, not even attempting to kill him. Instead, he settles easily into the back seat and pulls his sleeping mask over his head to rest on his crown.

 

“What the _hell_ , Sougo,” Hijikata gripes. “You’ll try to kill me but you let an annoying jackass like him go?”

 

Sougo doesn’t answer him of course, being that brat that he is. Hijikata has to settle for scowling at everything that moves until he’s finally told to board, and he does this only with extreme reluctance. It isn’t until they finally pull away from the shore that he calms down somewhat, awestruck.

 

Crossing Edo’s only lake seems very surreal. The waters are eerily still, and they would look like glass if it weren’t from the occasional ripple of oars sluicing through the reflected daylight sky. Had they not been moving, Hijikata thinks that he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the sky and the water, almost as if he’d be suspended in a timeless bubble of silence. The thought is disconcerting, so he tries not to let his imagination get the best of him.

 

They pass through many torii, which seem to be placed sporadically around the waters as they progress deeper into the lake. Even Hijikata, who’s normally good with navigations, can’t make anything of their random movements. The lack of landmarks makes it even more difficult, and each time they pass through one of the red gates, he sees the adjacent stone lanterns flicker briefly with flame. A small warning perhaps, maybe even a blessing to ward off ill spirits.

 

He asks about them, but the guide acts as though he does not hear the question.

 

“Best to cross during the light hours while you can,” their guide says rather cheerily, his eyes twinkling red (how annoying). His shoulders move to and fro in a steady rhythm, fingers relaxed against the wood in his hands.  “When it’s dark, there’s high chance you’ll see things in the fog and go mad.”

 

“Is that true?” Sougo asks, lounging comfortably despite the unsettling still of the canoe. “People going mad, that is.”

 

A soft smile. Hijikata feels shivers go down his back when he sees those white teeth, flashing brighter than that silver hair. Even the white of the guide’s robe seems dim in comparison. “I can take you out during nighttime if you want. No guarantees on you coming back, though.”

 

“Sougo can’t possibly get even more mad than he already is,” Hijikata scoffs, turning his eyes away so he can look at the receding landscape in the distance. Soon, all they’ll be able to see is the open water in the company of someone who seems far scarier than going crazy, and though Hijikata doesn’t _often_ judge Kondo’s judgement, this will be one of those times he does. “Don’t give him any funny ideas about getting lost or hallucinating.”

 

“You won’t get lost,” the man grins again. “It’ll be a while before we hit the shadows, so say your goodbyes to your sunlight before then. I’ll let you know when it’s time to put the blindfolds on.”

 

“ _Blindfolds_?” Hijikata splutters incredulously. “I didn’t hear about this!”

  
“What, so we don’t go crazy?” Sougo asks around a piece of jerky. “I thought those were just rumors.”

 

“They could be. You don’t have to wear one if you don’t want, but it’s my job to get you two across.” The guide shrugs. “If you choose to go crazy instead of crossing safely, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

Hijikata’s mind is still reeling. “How the _hell_ will you know where we’re going if you’re blindfolded? This was a bad idea. Sougo, can you see Kondo’s canoe anywhere? Let’s swim there and tell him to go back. We can’t trust this dumbass.”

 

Their guide’s laughter is soft, but loud enough that it can be heard over the sound of creaking wood. It doesn’t seem to suit him as much as boisterous cackling would. “Others have to clear the path a special way, but I don’t, so there’s no need to worry. I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Oh really.”

 

“And you really don’t wanna be swimming in these waters,” he continues, ignoring Hijikata’s protests completely. “There’s some pretty nasty stuff living down there. We wouldn’t want you messing up your pretty face so soon, would we now?”

 

“How scary,” Sougo comments in a bored tone, but his eyes are glinting with interest.

 

“If you go overboard,” the grinning guide says, staring directly at Hijikata, “I might not be able to see your pretty face ever again.”

 

Hijikata harrumphs and crosses his arms, glaring down at his shoes angrily. He takes his waterskin out of his pack and chugs at it. “When we get to Yoshiwara, I hope you get eaten by the likes of Hosen.”

 

“Hosen? He died a while ago, you know. Did the news not pass the mountains or something?”

 

He chokes on his mouthful of water, spraying it over the side. He’s more disturbed by the fact that the lake _still_ doesn’t make any noise. Wiping his mouth violently, he glares at their guide’s broad back. “Hosen’s dead? Who killed him? How?”

 

“Huh,” is the simple, unappealing answer. “So even the Shinsengumi didn’t know.”

 

“Who did it,” Hijikata repeats. From behind, Sougo snores, though it can’t be verified whether he’s actually asleep or not.

 

He shrugs. “Some jackass, I’ve heard. I don’t really know.”

 

If Hosen is dead, then the sudden rise of crime in Yoshiwara makes perfect sense. Hijikata had merely thought it was strange influx of Summoners lurking about even in Hosen’s presence, but it seems the news hasn’t reached anyone past Kabuki Village. For so long, terror of the self-proclaimed King of Night had kept Yoshiwara a controlled hub of careful movements. Now, with the head of the dragon gone, Hijikata has no doubt that the Summoners there aim to fight over the throne.

 

He leans back and rubs at his hair. This venture is already turning out to be much more troublesome than he’d expected.

 

“Oh, and by the way,” the guide speaks up, pausing to toss Hijikata a thick length of black fabric. “You might want to put that on soon. We’ll reach the fog in another few minutes or so.”

 

Hijikata grumbles, but complies nonetheless. Once he’s settled back down, the only sound he can hear is the quiet hush of oars through water and the soft groan of old wood. Even with those noises, he can already dimly feel some mild panic start to set in. It’s hard to say when exactly it is that he finally relaxes, but it might have something to do with the soft caress of fog over his skin.

 

 

+

 

 

It’s hard to say how long he’s been asleep. He doesn’t want to think about that, actually, since he’s Vice-Commander and he’s not supposed to sleep on the job. So instead of tugging his blindfold off and looking around, Hijikata opts for lying still and listening instead. Sougo is talking with their guide, and it’s really annoying how he’s being more polite with a complete stranger than he is to him.

 

“So basically,” the guide is saying, “you’re going to Yoshiwara to beat some criminal ass?”

 

“Something like that.” Sougo yawns. “Also, when can I take my mask off? Not being able to see makes me kind of sleepy.”

 

“Yoshiwara’s just a bit further. I can’t give you an estimate since even Shinpachi doesn’t know how long it takes to cross Toyo. It varies for everyone, really.”

 

“I see, so you’re actually no different from Hijikata.”

 

“See, I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult. Your Commander’s kinda cute, but at the same time he’s an asswipe too, so—” He breaks off into laughter when Hijikata unknowingly lets out a small growl. “Ah, he’s finally admitting that he’s been eavesdropping. Wait, wait! Don’t take your blindfold off!”

 

Before his eyes can focus on anything, there’s a large hand clamping over his face, mostly his eyes. Hijikata tugs at the guide’s fingers, but he refuses to move. It should be more irritating that the warmth on his forehead feels nice, but he doesn’t give voice to that thought.

 

“What, you’d care if I went mad? How kind of you.”

 

“Just—keep your eyes closed, okay? Put the damn blindfold back on.”

 

For a few moments, all is silent and still except for the hot breath on his cheek and his own hammering pulse. He grunts an affirmative and pulls away with closed eyes, groping around for the slip of fabric. His cheeks are probably aflame with both embarrassment and anger, and the heat doesn’t go away until he hears the guide move and resume oaring.

 

When they finally dock, Hijikata rips the blindfold off immediately, lurching to his feet. His legs are numb from having been sitting for so long, but he forces them to move anyways, and nearly twists his ankle when he steps onto the dock. He refuses to acknowledge Sougo’s existence, and stalks off instead to find Kondo and speak with him about the arrangements during their stay.

 

Kondo reluctantly acquiesces to his demands of wanting a single room. Hijikata begins to relax slightly and starts to head off in some direction when he realizes that he doesn’t know the way around Yoshiwara, so he halts in his tracks. His left hand immediately goes to his pendant to grip at the familiar stone. In a strange, dark place, he notices that his nerves are alight with wariness, and his shoulders feel rigid with tension.

 

“Going alone isn’t quite so safe here.”

 

He whirls around, drawing his sword. The guide doesn’t flinch and instead stares back at him evenly. Everything about this man irritates him so much, and he doesn’t even know why.

 

“I thought your job was finished.”

 

With one finger, the other man pushes the blade away from his throat. Hijikata lowers the weapon, but he doesn’t sheath it. “Nooope. All the others are going back, but I’ve been told by the Hyakka to accompany you Shinsengumi folks throughout your stay. Mostly you, actually. The Gorilla said to make sure you don’t do anything extraordinarily stupid.”

 

“I don’t need your company—”

 

“So, it’s nice to meet you, dear Hijikata,” the man interrupts and holds out one hand. “I’m Gintoki of the Yorozuya.”

 

Hijikata gives the hand a miffed look and sheathes his sword. “Take me to the inn we’re staying at.”

 

Gintoki grins impishly and steps lightly to the side. His eyes glitter. “Just so you know, I’ll be sharing the room with you.”

 

 

+

 

 

When Hijikata wakes up to his alarm, he initially believes that Sougo must’ve messed with it since it’s still completely dark outside. He fumbles with the clock, cursing. He’s about to go back to sleep when he realizes that someone in the room is snoring loudly, and it’s then that he remembers he’s in Yoshiwara, sharing a room with a guy he’d rather not look at ever again.

 

Complaining under his breath, he rolls out of his futon and shivers at the morning chill. The winter edge cuts right through his skin, and he’s tempted to slide back under the blankets just because of how cold it is. Instead of giving in, he rubs at his face and reaches for the lights. His pendant is heavy around his neck, but at least it emanates some sort of warmth in spite of all the winter nonsense.

 

“Nooo,” Gintoki grumbles sleepily, swatting at something. Hijikata snorts and walks over, prodding the slumbering guide harshly with his foot.

 

“Get up,” he orders. “It’s almost dawn. Time to go out.”

 

Gintoki makes a strangled noise, batting at Hijikata’s foot and attempting to roll over. It might just be with how they’re positioned, but his face looks softer from this angle.

 

“I said _up!_ ” Hijikata roars, and punts the idiot out of the futon and onto the cold floor. Gintoki makes another garbled protest, but otherwise doesn’t move from his position. Sighing roughly, Hijikata gives up and heads for the shower instead. “Okay, I’m going out after I shower. If you aren’t awake then I’m leaving you behind.”

 

He enters the shower angrily, scrubs at his hair and skin angrily, towels himself dry angrily, even yanks his clothes on angrily. If there is one thing that’s to have remained constant since before the trip, it’s his anger (and his propensity for it). He’s fuming by the time he’s plodding through the streets, hands shoved inside his sleeves as he surveys the garish lights and long shadows of people splitting the roads.

 

Yoshiwara is considered one of the oldest settlements in Edo, possibly even the oldest. It shows in the way the architecture looms in intricate wooden patterns. Seemingly floating lanterns arc between buildings in graceful lines, setting the entire place awash with romantic, sultry light. There’s the hint of ancient tales whispered through dark alleys, unspoken traditions beneath the people’s feet. The city isn’t quiet by any means; it’s bustling with all sort of nightly activities, and Hijikata rapidly learns that he has to veer away from some women who look at him with coy, painted eyes.

 

He isn’t in uniform right now, so it’s obvious that many think he’s here to indulge in worldly pleasures like so many others. Hijikata has the brief thought that Kondo and the others are probably sleeping, since he’s always been the one to charge through the hallways yelling at everyone to commit seppuku for waking up late. He’d nearly mistaken it as night (which it technically is), so it wouldn’t be surprising at all if the men are still slumbering away. With the lack of sun, time is almost subjective, and it’s difficult for him to keep track of just how long he’s been meandering around.

 

He’ll see the occasional weak summon out in the open: water summons washing the dishes, thermo-based summons heating up the water. This is a sight he’s used to. He passes one store where someone has a fire summon, which lights crackling fireworks that hiss and spit bright neon sparks. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, which is considered the norm since the new King’s reign.

 

Pausing to buy some dango, he sits down on a bench and lets out a loud sigh. With his head tilted up, he can see the glimmer of stars in the sky, brighter than he’s ever seen them. They look like expensive jewels spilled out over black silk. He surveys them with a relaxed eye as he gnaws on a dumpling. The snack is honestly too sweet for his tastes but he eats it anyways, hating that all the syrup is sticking to his lips.

 

“Clearly,” Gintoki says from somewhere. “You do not know how to eat dango properly.”

 

Startled out of his mind, Hijikata turns his head this way and that until he spots Gintoki sprawled out on the bench behind him. He’s giving Hijikata a cheeky look, hair messy as if he hasn’t taken a shower. Hijikata wrinkles his nose and turns away.

 

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” he admits, flinching when Gintoki slides into the spot next to him. He makes an unmentionable noise when Gintoki leans over his lap and steals the last dango from the skewer. As he pulls off, Hijikata is frozen in place, not sure how to react to someone just brazenly stealing his food, so he reverts to his first instinct.

 

“What the hell!” he shouts, earning the attention of some passersby. “That was my dango!”

 

Gintoki snorts, licking his lips.

 

“And you still have sauce smeared all over your face, princess.” Then he leans in all close, red eyes unsettling bright despite the dark setting. His lips are right next to Hijikata’s ear as he whispers hotly. It’s alarming how fast Hijikata feels his face heating up. “You didn’t notice there were some people trailing you—they’re still watching. Act like I just said something really dirty.”

 

Mostly mortified, both at the nickname and the closeness, Hijikata shoves Gintoki’s face away with one hand. “ _No_!”

 

Now that Gintoki mentions it, he _does_ feel several pairs of eyes on him. He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth, irritated that Gintoki is still grinning at him playfully. At least he knows that Gintoki isn’t terrible at observation, so he’ll half-forgive him just this once. He brushes off his robe, thanking the shop owner before huffing as he walks away. Gintoki catches up easily, slinging an arm around him that he _really_ wants to shrug off, but can’t since he has to maintain the pretense that he doesn’t know he’s being followed. He fumes silently instead, ignoring the chatter in his ear and opting instead to stare at his sandals.

 

If he concentrates, he can hear three pairs of feet following him, so quiet that they could be mistaken as the ripple of fabric hanging from nearby shops. He grumbles every once in a while, swatting at Gintoki’s face so he doesn’t look completely immersed in his observation. Hijikata can’t sense any particularly strong malicious intent, but the fact that he’d been picked out from a large crowd says enough about the people that they are searching for.

 

The footsteps falter once the two of them start veering towards the busier part of Yoshiwara, slowly sounding farther and farther away until he can’t sense the heavy weight of eyes on him anymore. It’s another few minutes before Gintoki removes his arm, stretching with a stilted complaint before rubbing at his head.

 

“So yeah,” he says. “Don’t go out alone, like your Gorilla commander told you. You got really lucky today. Any farther and even the Hyakka wouldn’t have been able to save your sorry ass.”

 

“Do you know who they are?” Hijikata pulls away further, rubbing at his shoulder absentmindedly. It’s starting to rain, and since it’s below freezing, what hits his skin are hard pellets of ice. “It’s notable that they managed to pick me out even out of uniform.”

 

“Well, people as angry as you don’t commonly walk around here, you know. You look incredibly out-of-place without even trying. Plus,” his eyes dart down to Hijikata’s chest where his pendant lies below his robe. “It’s kinda hard to ignore such a strong presence if you’re trained right. Have you never learned to mask it? The people here are gonna get really antsy with a big Summoner strutting around. It’s such a turn off for criminals, too.”

 

Hijikata frowns. “I’ve never had to mask that I was a Summoner before.” He gives Gintoki a look. “Are you a Summoner?”

 

He’s picking his nose, that moron. “I dunno. Maybe I am.”

 

“What kind—”

 

“Anyways. Gorilla is inside the inn waiting for you, so you should get going. I’m pretty sure you guys are staying indoors to catch up on some research first. That being the case, I shall now take my humble leave.” Bowing exaggeratedly, Gintoki gestures for Hijikata to go through the doors. He doesn’t raise his head until Hijikata is headed up the stairs, and he smiles goofily, waving before he disappears into the streets.

 

 

+

 

 

The thing about Yoshiwara being an island in the middle of nowhere is that it seems like an entirely different continent. Far away from the rest of Edo, the people have adapted into a lifestyle more carefree than most, and the fog that falls over the island is like a curtain to keep prying eyes away. After listening to a briefing of some of the less safe areas, Hijikata has pointed out some locations around the map to Kondo, who arranges small teams to go investigate. For now, it may be best for them to travel in uniform.

 

Even in the cold, there are still women reaching their pretty hands out to men. Hijikata’s almost slapped a woman’s hand away, but before he could even move his arm from his side, Gintoki had taken ahold of his wrist, smiling mildly.

  
“We’re meeting with the head of the Hyakka,” Kondo announces. “Be on your best behavior.”

 

Shinsengumi, despite being a large police force, has limited information on things that the central government doesn’t want them knowing. Parts of Yoshiwara takes up a large portion of this list. The only designs they have on the Hyakka is that it is a group of elite Summoners who maintain order in Yoshiwara, ridding the place of troublemakers. Last year, which is allegedly when Hosen had been defeated, is when the head had realized taking on a large amount of unregulated Summoners alone this winter may not be a good idea.

 

Which leads to how the Shinsengumi are now on this island, the Commander and Vice assembled on the floating gazebos off the southern coast of Yoshiwara.

 

“The fog is safe out here,” Gintoki reassures. “They have guardian Summoners who put up water and light barriers so the stuff you’d normally see is refracted and harmless. They wouldn’t make this a vacation spot otherwise.”

 

This is nothing like a vacation spot to Hijikata. For one, it’s so cold that some of the water surrounding the gazebos has turned to ice. Secondly, there’s no light where they are standing except for the occasional torch down the line. The wood rocks unsteadily above the waters, and Hijikata gives the creaking planks under his feet a frown.

 

Kondo keeps his summon out, a flaming monkey that lights the way. It’s small since they aren’t in combat, and Hijikata takes small comfort in knowing that they at least aren’t unarmed. Having three men huddled around a tiny fire isn’t exactly comfortable, though, and he’s hyperaware of how Gintoki presses into his side.

 

He clears his throat. “How much longer will he take? It’s been ages.”

 

“Oh please,” Gintoki snorts. “It’s been, like, ten minutes since we sat down. Tsukuyo’s busy too, you know.”

 

Hijikata stares. “You know the head of the Hyakka?”

 

A devilish smirk. “I know a lot of people. I knew of Gorilla _way_ before you guys even knew I existed.”

 

“It’s why I asked to him to be our head guide, Toshi,” Kondo nods solemnly. “He may not look the part, but he has been around a lot of places. The Hyakka personally requested his presence, after all.”

 

He hums noncommittally. From the water, he hears something like the sound of rushing wind and glances up to see a shadowy figure striding towards them on air. He’s stunned for a moment before he remembers that most of the Hyakka are wind-based Summoners, and is only more shocked when he sees a woman step off an invisible ledge and drop to the ground.

 

“I apologize for my lateness,” she says in a solemn, icy voice. Her eyes rake over them quickly, calculated and experienced. “There was some business to take care of beforehand. I am Tsukuyo, head of the Hyakka.”

 

“I’m Kondo Isao,” Kondo introduces. “Commander of the Shinsengumi. I’ve brought our Vice-Commander with me.”

 

“Hijikata Toshirou,” he bows, schooling his expression into practiced stoniness. “We look forward to working with you.”

 

“I anticipate your cooperation.” Nodding, she raises a brow at Gintoki, who seems to have retreated behind Hijikata while they had been introducing each other.

 

“Uh,” he stammers. It’s the first time he’s ever look anything other than smug or half-asleep.  “Long time no see?”

 

Tsukuyo levels him with a lethal glare, lips quirking into a deeper frown. “I assume you’re doing your job properly?”

 

“R-right. Something like that. I’m keeping an eye on this princess so—no worries here!”

 

“I’m not a princess,” Hijikata snaps, secretly relieved that the woman seems to have the upper hand against Gintoki.

 

Gintoki sort of withers in the back while Tsukuyo discusses plans with the Shinsengumi commanders. She’s spread out a large map between them, ordering Gintoki to take watch over the horizon and connecting decks. He complies with such little hesitation that Hijikata can’t help but wonder what exactly is going on with the two of them.

 

It’s pretty much guaranteed that Katsura Kotaro is among the Summoners, and many of the others may end up being his followers. Tsukuyo mentions other regions of Yoshiwara that have seen more criminal activity in the past few months. There doesn’t seem to be a geographical connection for any of them, since they’re just spread out in areas where it’s particularly difficult to catch glimpses of what is happening.

 

“Less crowds mean less attention,” Tsukuyo intones wisely, exhaling a sudden burst of smoke that sends Kondo into a coughing fit. “It was the same in the battle last year with Hosen. We Hyakka have long since removed any witnesses who could have been harmful to the city. All the Summoners fought within the castle walls, so there weren’t too many witnesses of the actual act.”

 

“Except that the sun decided to rise,” Gintoki snorts from his seat on the railing. He’s swinging one leg again, slumped in a way that makes him seem smaller and more child-like than he actually is. “Isn’t it weird how you’ve been getting more sun with that bastard gone?”

 

“Of course, it is not an unwelcome development,” Tsukuyo replies steadily. “And we have business yet to discuss, since you ran off before we were able to thank you properly.”

 

It takes a moment for Hijikata to catch onto what they’re talking about. Kondo obviously doesn’t get it; he’s looking between the three of them with that pleasant expression of his that reads _I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on_ to anyone who knows well enough to look. Once Hijikata does realize, however, he just sits in numb silence, staring at Gintoki. He refuses to admit that he goes a little slack-jawed at the news.

 

“ _You’re_ the savior of Yoshiwara?” he asks incredulously and Gintoki shrugs at him. “You said you didn’t know!”

 

“No, I definitely said that it might’ve been a jackass,” Gintoki retorts. “Which, I might add, was a very rude name to call me when we’d only just met.”

 

“Gintoki has helped Yoshiwara in more ways than just getting rid of Hosen from this area.” Smoothing out the map with a quick hand, Tsukuyo brings their attention back before they end up arguing again. “He’s volunteered to help with many errands and occasionally assists us in neutralizing dangerous Summoners. It is the main reason I requested to have him with the Shinsengumi.”

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked him!” Kondo adds cluelessly.

 

“No, you really didn’t. You just like him because you don’t have to be with him all the time,” grunts Hijikata.

 

He’d known there’d been something off with Gintoki, but he hadn’t realized it stems from prowess and strength, maybe even reputation. He can’t sense any affinity for Summoning in Gintoki, and it bothers him because if Gintoki has to mask his presence, that means he’s hiding something important, right? Thinking about all of this makes Hijikata’s head ache, so he tries to ignore it as well as Gintoki for the rest of the meeting. The weight of his pendant around his neck becomes a distraction, though, the power warm at his fingertips. It sets his fingertips aflame with invisible sparks, intense and eager.

 

“Hey, Tsukuyo. I see someone coming onto the docks. Wanna fly us back to the city?”

 

Kondo extinguishes his summon and for a breathless few moments, there is nothing but the whistling winter gales and the hiss of illusion-inducing fog over water. It’s nearly impossible to see anything in this near complete darkness, so Hijikata hasn’t a clue as to how Gintoki actually spotted someone approaching the area.

 

Gintoki’s eyes glitter like gems even without the light. “Er, well. Can you take the two of them back to the inn? I’ll get back on my own. You _do_ only have two arms, after all. Let’s take care of the guests first.”

 

The head of the Hyakka grabs Kondo and Hijikata around their waists, shushing them when they let out noises of surprise. Gintoki murmurs something into her ear, stepping back after a few seconds. Before Hijikata can even blink, he’s in the air, wind rushing past his ears and tangling his hair. He would let out a tremulous yell, but his heart his in his throat and flying actually might be a little bit exhilarating. The woman’s summon is certainly more exciting than any others he’s had the (mis)fortune of experiencing, and he has to smother his smile once they alight atop a cracked turquoise rooftop.

 

“Gintoki will be fine,” she tells Kondo, but Hijikata can tell it’s more directed at him. “I will send for you again when we’ve uncovered some more information. In the meantime, please help us in picking off the weaker troublemakers.”

 

 

+

 

 

A month and a half into winter turns over around a dozen lesser threats. The prisons are brutal: rooms are specialized to combat the specific summons, and Hijikata shudders to think of feeling completely powerless and at the mercy of his enemies.

 

Except—well, these are the Jouishishi. Feeling pity for the enemy side has never brought good results in a war or in the aftermath, and Hijikata is left with a bitter taste in his mouth. He follows Kondo’s lead in raids, during which Gintoki always mysteriously disappears, feeling the electricity crackling along his body like a vengeful spirit. When he swings his sword, lightning arcs in bright blue-white spears. He’s always enjoyed the sensation of releasing his summon. It’s a lot like letting all the tension out of one’s body after a long day, becoming more sensitive and aware of how the world shifts and breathes.

 

One of the more memorable instances include Sougo accidentally setting his trousers on fire. Hijikata will treasure that memory forever and ever, even if it gets him nearly killed a hundred times over.

 

“Won’t be long until the big boss shows up, huh?” Gintoki says one day, reclining on the edge of the open window as if he doesn’t care if he falls. It’s really cold; Hijikata doesn’t understand why Gintoki dresses like that if he doesn’t like the chill either, but he’s learned by now that asking questions only leads to annoying banter. More often than not, Gintoki has answered his questions of the cold by pressing his chilled hands onto Hijikata’s face. “You gotta prepare your troops and make sure your inventory is stocked with potions and shit.”

 

Hijikata gives him a strange look, returning to filling out the reports on their most recent arrest. “This isn’t a game.”

 

“True,” Gintoki says very lightly. “In games they have stuff like extra lives and one-ups. We don’t.”

 

He then stands and closes the window, crawling beneath the kotatsu until only his head is poking out from the blankets. At least he’s easier to handle when the weather is especially cold. On slightly warmer days, Gintoki buzzes with nervous energy that even Sougo and Yamazaki can’t handle. Thankfully, Tsukuyo often forces him out for other errands, which have him dragging his feet back from exhaustion.

 

Hijikata returns to his paperwork for a few minutes before he feels the abrupt stillness in the air. He frowns, crossing the room to peer out the slats of the window before he feels a hand grabbing at his wrist and yanking him _down_.

 

Something crashes in through the wooden cover of the window and rolls onto the floor. Before Hijikata can process much more, Gintoki is already pulling him out the window, shouting at him to jump. He obeys blindly, feeling searing heat on his back as the room explodes. His ears ring from the sudden noise. Ash is in his mouth and his hands might be cut up and bleeding everywhere, but he doesn’t feel any pain over the rush of adrenaline soaring through his veins.

 

He scans the surroundings frantically, trying to catch sight of anyone, anything.

 

To his left, he catches the briefest glimpse of a wicked eye and black hair. It disappears like an apparition, and Hijikata stumbles to his feet with his pulse pounding in his ears. He would chase after the rebel, but worry for the rest of the Shinsengumi gnaws at his gut, so he instead turns around and faces the burning building.

 

A hungry pyre of cackling flame greets him. It seems to spread two fiery arms, mimicking a welcoming embrace that clearly spells out threat and resistance.

 

Blood drips down his temple. Hijikata falls and feels embers settling over his back before he loses consciousness.

 

 

+

 

 

His waking is not pleasant—rather, it’s sudden and panicked, and his chest heaves as he wrenches his body upright. Hijikata’s head throbs with fierce pain that has him wincing against the lights, but he shoves these matters aside when he sees the more modern layout of a hospital room around him.

 

“Oh look, the pretty princess is awake.”

 

In the bed across from him, Gintoki is sprawled out the best he can be with all his bandages, reading some book that looks like a children’s novel. He’s picking his nose absentmindedly, rolling his findings between his thumb and pinky finger.

 

“You’re the first one to wake up,” he continues to drawl, this time moving on to pick at his ear (with his other hand). “Please entertain me. I’ve been so bored being stuck in a boring, boring room with boring staff, and the only manga they have here are boring, old off-brand volumes. They don’t even have strawberry milk! What kind of hospital doesn’t have strawberry milk? Oh—Tsukuyo, welcome back.”

 

“Everyone’s safe?” Hijikata croaks, cringing at his hoarse voice.

 

“Gintoki saved them,” Tsukuyo says from the doorway, holding a tray of what seems to be medicines and wrappings. “Your Commander helped as well, but he took a bad blow to his head, as did you.”

 

“I didn’t do any saving,” Gintoki sniffs. “Please, you did a lot of the work too.”

 

“I didn’t get injured,” the woman retorts sternly. “I helped the people on the lower floor. _You_ , on the other hand, ran up the burning stairs to—”

 

“Okay, okay, yes, okay! I get it! Just treat the princess over here and don’t nag at me anymore. I’m gonna grow gray hairs just from listening to you talk.”

 

“You’re hair’s already all white, old man.” Hijikata scrunches his nose at the sound of his scratchy voice and receives a sharp glare in his direction. “How long has it been?”

 

“Just over a day,” Tsukuyo replies, handing Hijikata several pills and a glass of water. “It’s a miracle that most of your men were out on patrol, so the casualties were minimal. I have women already on the search for clues to the perpetrator.”

 

Hijikata frowns. “Isn’t is sort of obvious that it’s Katsura? I mean, I didn’t get a close look at the eyes, but I’m pretty sure I saw black hair.”

 

“Not Zura,” Gintoki says. “I mean, Katsura. He wouldn’t do that.”

 

“Oh really. Since when have you been an expert on the behavior of terrorists and rebels?”

 

At that, Gintoki opens his mouth, closes it, then gives up and slumps so that his head is positioned awkwardly on his pillow. “Whatever. I know he wouldn’t.”

 

Squinting, Hijikata gives Gintoki a good look over. Other than being bandaged, he seems well enough. He must’ve carried Hijikata someplace after he’d passed out, and somehow the knowledge of that doesn’t make him as angry as he thought it would. He finds that he feels more grateful with that the guide had taken his time to help the rest of the Shinsengumi out of the burning building (and saving his life as well). The thing is—Hijikata has always been bad at words, especially ones of thanks. He’s more of a slice-at-things-he-hates and don’t-slice-at-things-he-likes sort of guy.

 

Well, to put it more accurately, he’s especially bad at thanking people he’s usually annoyed by. Gintoki has knocked Sougo off the top of the list of Most Annoying Acquaintances ever, so that’s probably why he doesn’t feel like doing anything but punching his face right now.

 

“Were any of the civilians hurt?” he asks Tsukuyo, and she shakes her head.

 

“We were able to mitigate the fire in time before it spread, but there is still some property damage.” She eyes Gintoki with an unreadable expression. “One of Gintoki’s friends is here to help, but all he really did was make the initial damage worse. Apparently he has some useful information for us.”

 

Gintoki sighs as if this is a great travesty completely unrelated to him. “He’s just like that, you know. His head’s never been screwed on straight, and he has a hard enough time staying on the ground as it is. Can you blame him for getting his clothes caught on the roof and getting set on fire by his subordinate?”

 

Okay, Hijikata has no idea what they’re talking about now. “You have friends?”

 

“Wow, _rude_ , I’ll have you know I’m extremely popular. Tatsuma’s out getting strawberry milk for me right now. It’s been like… an hour, though.” He pauses as if something has dawned on him. “I should probably go look for him? He gets lost a lot. Or, well, he can’t get down a lot of the time since he’s too clumsy to walk everywhere and floats around instead.”

 

Hijikata stares. He’s not really surprised that Gintoki’s friends are just as strange as he is, but he sort of doesn’t know what to make of this Tatsuma person. This person floats? He got set on fire by his subordinate? He’s starting to sound a lot like an even more incompetent version of Kondo. Hijikata’s not sure if this is a terrible development or a disastrous one.

 

“You won’t be going anywhere,” Tsukuyo says coldly, stationed right next to Gintoki’s bed with a knife pressed against his throat. “I already have the Hyakka trailing him, so he should be here shortly.”

 

He makes sure not to move around suddenly or suggest any unwanted movement. In hospital bed or not, the Hyakka’s head obviously has no intentions of letting either of them outside. Hijikata makes do for laying back down and staring up at the ceiling.

 

 

+

 

 

Sakamoto Tatsuma, or better known as Gintoki’s airhead friend, floats into their hospital room through the window, bringing in a flurry of snow with him. It’s allegedly very easy to tell when he’s in the room, because he’s either laughing at something stupid, laughing in pain while his subordinate chokes him half to death, or laughing at nothing at all. Hijikata opens his eyes to see a stranger sitting on the ceiling as if it’s perfectly normal, and he hurls himself out of his bed, searching for some sort of weapon.

 

“Aha, Kintoki!” the man says cheerily, “He’s awake!”

 

Hijikata yelps when he slips and bashes his head on the floor, groaning and clutching at his forehead. His vision swims, and he can just make out a rather irritatingly happy face with sunglasses. The man’s still positioned on the ceiling, which is low enough that when Hijikata stands, he’s face to face with this happy abomination.

 

“Oi,” he says, turning to Gintoki. “Who the hell is this?”

 

“That’s Tatsuma,” Gintoki mumbles from behind a mountain of pillows. “He didn’t even get me my strawberry milk. I don’t ever wanna see his dumb face ever again.”

 

“Haha, Kintoki, don’t be like that! I think Mutsu’s out to get some, aha, and she’s really good with that stuff, aha! She really is!”

 

“You’re floating,” Hijikata says rather dumbly. He doesn’t think he’s ever encountered a Summoner like this before. Just being in the same room with him makes his hairs stand on end. “You’re a gravitational Summoner?”

 

“Ha, he’s smart!” Tatsuma shouts gleefully as if Hijikata isn’t right in front of him.

 

“He’s smart where it doesn’t count. I bet he doesn’t even know how to get you down from there.” Gintoki raises his head and squints at his friend. “Have you even learned how to stay on the ground at all?”

 

“Aha, nope!”

 

He seems to genuinely try, but the effort sends him crashing down onto Hijikata’s head. The door happens to open during this attempt, and through the haze of pain, Hijikata manages to pick out another stone-faced woman who reeks of power. She seems to notice Hijikata’s look, however, and subtly masks it. She walks over not to talk to Hijikata, but to pull the struggling man off of him instead. It’s mildly frightening how easily she lifts Tatsuma, almost as if he weighs nothing to her. (This is why Hijikata doesn’t get involved with women. Some of them are decent, but he’s only been meeting the intimidating ones in Yoshiwara).

 

“Captain,” she says. “Take this seriously or I’ll tie you up and throw you into the ocean again.”

  
“Aha, ha, Mutsu! How kind of you to stop by! Kintoki has someone he’s working with, haha! He seems smart, ha!”

 

Mutsu punches her captain squarely in the face and knocks his sunglasses off, leaving Hijikata to stare at the scene a bit apprehensively. With his eyes rolled back and his mouth slack, the man seems to have been knocked unconscious. Gintoki is watching with his trademark bored, half-asleep expression, but as usual Hijikata can’t really tell what he’s thinking. He’s always thought that Gintoki doesn’t really pay attention to much; with how readily he reacts to everything, though, Hijikata gets this unsettling feeling that he knows a lot more than he lets on.

 

“I apologize on his behalf. Our captain is the Idiot Supreme,” the woman says in her harsh, no-nonsense voice. “I am Mutsu, Kaientai’s Vice-Captain. When our idiot captain wakes, we will discuss our findings with you.”

 

“Hijikata Toshirou,” Hijikata says a bit unnecessarily. The Vice-Captain walks back out of the room, this time dragging her superior out by one foot. It’s strange, but Hijikata agrees that seeing Tatsuma on the ground is more disconcerting than seeing him floating around aimlessly.

 

When he looks at the bed across from his, the guide merely shrugs, ignoring him in favor of chugging strawberry milk.

 

 

+

 

 

From the explosion a few days ago, the only individuals who had sustained moderate to severe injuries are Kondo, Gintoki, and himself. Unfortunately, Sougo had been out doing rounds at the time, so he’s in fine health and seems to take extreme glee in Hijikata’s headaches. Half of Kondo’s hair had to be shaved off, and instead of being put off by it, he takes the new hairstyle into stride. Yamazaki and half of the Shinsengumi with them follow suit, much to Hijikata’s chagrin.

 

“The Kyoukuchuu Hatto,” he reminds, “states that personnel are disallowed from succumbing to popular culture, especially in sporting notoriously atrocious hairstyles. You all have to commit seppuku. Right. Now.”

 

The Kaientai generally travel by zeppelins, meaning less travel time and interference from land bound rogue Summoners. They have a clear, advanced map of all of Edo, as well as other vaguely charted lands, courtesy of Sakamoto’s tendency to get lost in the weirdest places. Despite being an overall idiot, Sakamoto proves to be very experienced in navigation, and he’s like Gintoki in that he goes around hiding his presence too. Mutsu doesn’t, and that plays into her intimidation factor that doesn’t affect Gintoki’s idiocy at all.

 

Hijikata has to wear his blindfold as he’s taken up into the lead zeppelin by Tsukuyo, who also wears one. She walks steadily up flights of airy stairs, grip strong and nearly bruising. He still doesn’t know what exactly lurks inside of it or the surrounding waters, and no one is keen on telling him, either. On their way up, Hijikata has one hand steady on his pendant, and his summon is cold on his palm as if trying to pull away.

 

He walks around in the airship in a sort of awed daze. Hijikata has never been airborne aside from Tsukuyo’s summons, and the idea of being suspended midair feels unfamiliar. One of the crew members lead him and Tsukuyo into a meeting space, furnished with expensive chairs and the like that he recognizes from the southern desert cities. He immediately longs for the warmer seasons, already tired with being trapped inside the wintery, perpetual night of Yoshiwara. At least from above the fog, he can see the stars, a better view than the usually cloudy expanse in Yoshiwara that parts only once every few days.

 

Hijikata asks about Gintoki, since he’s gotten so used to having that moron around him. It’s both relieving and unnerving to be on his own again. The Yorozuya down somewhere in Yoshiwara, having disappeared sometime in the middle of the night—though saying that is really subjective, since it’s always nighttime in Yoshiwara—and they haven’t had word from him in the past two days. Tsukuyo is obviously worried about him. Hijikata can’t really blame her. Gintoki is the kind of person that barges in randomly, and that randomness becomes such an integral part of one’s life that the absence of noise makes everything feel _empty_.

 

He’s really not fond of Gintoki, though. Really.

 

Despite being so high in the air, the zeppelin has proper heating, and it’s much better than having to crowd himself under the kotatsu or piling layer after layer of haoris after scarves. Hijikata misses the warmth of the coasts; the winters there aren’t nearly as unforgiving, and they at least see the sun over there. He hasn’t seen the sun in what seems like ages, and he has another few more months to suffer through before they begin the trek out of Yoshiwara.

 

Sakamoto is actually walking on the ground this time when he greets Hijikata, though the miracle is short-lived since he trips over nothing and falls onto his face. Or, he would’ve fallen on his face, but Mutsu catches him by the collar of his coat and yanks him back upright. She looks and acts more the part of Kaientai’s Captain, so Hijikata assumes there must be some special reason she’s tagging along with this superb airhead specimen.

 

“How much do you know about the Kiheitai?” Mutsu asks him, and he inspects the food and water set in front of him with a wary eye.

 

“I know that they’re one of the most, if not the most, dangerous faction of the Jouishishi. The Shinsengumi has been tracking them for ages, but they seem to have a lot of connections to other groups and remain well hidden.” They’ve only had mild encounters with actual members of the Kiheitai, but that’s only because the group doesn’t show much interest in making obvious moves. Someone in there is pulling strings, and they pull strings extremely well. Hijikata doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but he still does so begrudgingly.

 

Mutsu tilts her head. “He claims he knows the captain of the Kiheitai.”

 

“Aha, Mutsu! You don’t need to word it like that, haha!” Sakamoto laughs, and keeps laughing. He vomits into the bucket Mutsu pulls out of nowhere, and resumes his cackling. How does he never tire of laughing? “I, ha, don’t really know him, aha! In the past, we, ahaha, just worked together for a little bit, ha!”

 

“So you know him,” Hijikata deadpans, and the captain bursts into laughter again.

 

“Aha, aha! Well, Kintoki might know him better, ha! They’re, ha, like childhood friends after all! Super friendly and all that, haha!” He vomits into the bucket again. Hijikata makes a displeased face, but doesn’t say anything over the ensuing laughter.

 

“Gintoki knows the leader of the Kiheitai?” he asks carefully. “How are you acquainted with the both of them?”

 

But Sakamoto does not answer. He just keeps laughing and vomiting. Eventually, it gets to the point where he’s not even sitting in his chair anymore. He floats until he’s perched on the ceiling of the room with the bucket dangling from his hands. Mutsu gives Hijikata a stern, apologetic look.

 

“He can’t stop laughing after a while,” she sighs. “Ignore him for now. Maybe he’ll fall and drown in his own puke and finally die.”

 

Hijikata is—he’s mildly alarmed. But he sort of understands since Sougo does the same thing to him, so it must be a sort of thing where she lies in wait for him to die before taking over. Hijikata can live with that when he’s not the target, so he doesn’t complain.

 

Mutsu leads them to another room on the other side of the ship, and it’s filled with books and paper and folders. Hijikata’s fingers twitch; it’s been so long since he’s been able to indulge in this much _paper_ and even the smell of old leather, fiber, and dried ink is getting to him.

 

“Our files on Katsura and Kiheitai factions are on the table there,” she points to the piles of piles of paper, and Hijikata almost drools. “I’ll be back in a bit to discuss more details with you, but for now, please make do with the information we have here.”

 

He pores over all the files, keeping light conversation with Tsukuyo, who seems less interested in the actual information, and more in the books lining the shelves.

 

“These are books from before the war,” she says, drawing his attention. In her hands is a worn book that looks as though it’ll fall apart at any moment, discolored with what seems like a large soup stain. When she cracks it open, Hijikata sees the calligraphy of olden times. She shakes her head, closing it, and gently slides it back into its place again. They resume reading through the information in silence until Mutsu returns.

 

His head is swimming with questions now. Once he tracks that stupid guide down, he has a feeling they will all fall out of his mouth, so he plans on biting his tongue until he beats some sense in the moron first.

 

 

+

 

 

“Do you know of Takasugi Shinsuke?” Hijikata asks casually one evening. They’re just finished another arrest and are lounging in a different inn. While he’s working on reports, Gintoki is wrapped up in several blankets, staring listlessly at a crack in the wall. He shows no reaction to Hijikata’s question, not even flinching at the mention of Takasugi’s name. Still rolled up in his blankets, he turns his head towards Hijikata, eyes dull.

 

“What?” he says. “Who’s that?”

 

“People say he’s the leader of the Kiheitai, and that he fought as commander in the war.”

 

“Huh,” Gintoki hums unrevealingly. “What about him?”

 

Hijikata sets down his brush. “Sakamoto claimed that the two of you are childhood friends.”

 

For once, Gintoki is silent and offers no kind of sarcastic or sardonic remark. Instead he stares at Hijikata with those eerie eyes of his and says nothing. It should be a bit more humorous that he scooches over to Hijikata while still wrapped up in all those blankets, but it seems more like he’s being stalked down as a prey in spite of the circumstances. He gets so close that his face is practically pressing into Hijikata’s leg, and the Vice-Commander is frozen between the decision of escape or physical retaliation.

 

“Pet me,” Gintoki says randomly into his thigh.

 

“What?”

 

Gintoki’s eyes glitter as he looks up. “You’re my only friend right now, so pet me.”

 

“What—”

 

Groaning loudly, Gintoki somehow manages to roll out of all the sheets and moves to push Hijikata down. His yukata is hanging open, and Hijikata glimpses the firm planes of muscle and smooth skin.

 

“I said,” Gintoki repeats into Hijikata’s ear, “you, princess, are my only friend right now, so you should pet me.”

 

Hijikata shocks him. It might or might not be completely on accident, but he feels no remorse when he sees Gintoki’s pitiful figure splayed on the floor from the force of his summon. The sparks on his fingertips flicker out after a moment or two, and the charged energy echoes loudly.

 

“You—you,” he splutters, gesticulating wildly. Spit is flying from his mouth, but he could care absolutely less. “Go—go die! Go commit seppuku!”

 

Gintoki whines pitifully from the floor, clutching at his dick, and the Hijikata glances at him once last time before exiting the room and fleeing outside the inn.

 

He tries to find solace in drinking at a bar, but it turns out that it’s an okama bar, so Hijikata is left blushing and stuttering as all sorts of people crowd around him and try to pour sake down his throat. A woman who goes by the name of Zurako shoos the others away and sits down primly next to Hijikata, gently offering the cup. He’s not good with women in the first place, so he thinks he’s even worse at handling okama.

 

“Have we met before?” Hijikata blinks dumbly, _positive_ that he’s seen a face like Zurako’s around somewhere. He can’t remember where, though, and that bothers him greatly.

 

Zurako covers her mouth and giggles in an extremely unfitting and fake falsetto. “My, my, mister! We’ve never met. You don’t need to try so hard to flirt with me.”

 

“I,” Hijikata says rather eloquently, blinking again. “I was just asking. I, uh, don’t flirt.”

 

Zurako flutters her eyelashes prettily, and Hijikata finds it difficult to imagine Zurako as a man. This _is_ an okama bar, so an actual woman wouldn’t come here to entertain gross, drunk men, right? That’s what he ends up telling his host, anyways, slowly slipping into a drunken sort of haze where any kind of light is bright and that dark lipstick on Zurako’s lips looks really enticing. He stands up quickly, swaying, and thinks nothing of it when he smells the briefest hint of gunpowder on pale skin.

 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s escaped into Yoshiwara’s streets alone only to have Gintoki find him. Granted, this is the only time that he’s been found babbling and mostly drunk, so it might be an exception. Rather than looking his usual bout of teasing, though, Gintoki is frowning.

 

“You smell like perfume,” he peers over Hijikata’s shoulder, more concerned with that fact rather than that he went into an okama bar. “Are you drunk?”

 

“No.” Hijikata hiccups.

 

“Didn’t meet any strange people? Feel ‘em up? Kiss any of the women there?”

 

“No,” Hijikata grumbles, leaning heavily on Gintoki’s strong shoulder. His clothes smell like a weird blend of sweets and rain, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He actually likes it a lot more than Zurako’s subtle, flowery perfume with that strangely sharp twist.

 

“What’s the point of going to a bar if you’re not gonna do that, huh? Ah, whatever. C’mon, officer. It’s getting late and you’re piss drunk.”

 

Heaving a mighty sigh, Gintoki takes one of Hijikata’s arms and slings it over his shoulders. It’s cold out and there’s snow crunching beneath their feet, but Hijikata’s more concerned with the way Gintoki’s body seems to be radiating heat. He doesn’t realize he’s practically letting himself be dragged until he accidentally trips in an effort to coordinate leg movement and pulls Gintoki down with him.

 

“What the hell,” he slurs.

 

“You’re really drunk,” Gintoki snaps back, half-sitting on him.

 

“You’re heavy,” Hijikata says, shivering when the cold press of snow on his back intensifies. “Get off, it’s cold.”

 

Gintoki regards him silently before pushing himself onto his hands to stare down at him with his intense, ruby eyes. When Hijikata makes a gross face at him, he huffs and stands, yanking Hijikata up by the arm. He’s still (not) drunk though, so he sort of stumbles into Gintoki’s chest with a pained _oof_.

 

“Don’t go drinking again,” Gintoki says. “If you’re gonna be this much of a pain in the ass whenever I try to do something, I might as well just not.”

 

He hums, not really understanding what Gintoki is saying. His voice is just nice, yeah, really nice. Hijikata feels like he could fall asleep just listening to it. He feels his eyes drooping and his feet not really moving properly, but he doesn’t care. Somewhere along the way things become dark, and he vaguely feels himself being lifted before he passes out.

 

 

+

 

 

It’s been weeks since Hijikata has sworn off of drinking, and he’s jumpier than ever because just a few days ago Sougo had nearly burned his head off with a flamethrower. Every sudden movement throws him into his previously daily routine of duck and cover, and so he tumbles into an alleyway full of trash bags and old magazines when there’s some loud and sudden cellophane-y noise from a nearby store.

 

To his extreme surprise, Katsura is digging through one of the dumpsters in that alley, and there is a split second of pure shock that passes between them as they stare.

 

“Katsuraaa!” Hijikata yells once he snaps out of his daze and lets his summon loose, crackling around in him in a loud, ireful halo of electricity. He draws his sword, also realizing that that terrorist had been the okama serving him sake. The embarrassment burns more than the anger does. “Today is the day you die!”

 

Katsura, with his hair up in a messy bun, lets out some sort of strangled yodel before jumping off the dumpster and bursting into a sprint. He’s laughing manically as he speeds into the streets, and how—how is he so fast? And is that a duck on his head? Hijikata does a double take and nearly falls onto his face; Katsura has his ridiculous speed and there is a _duck_ sitting on his head, honking loudly as it flaps its white wings excitedly. The piles of snow prove to be no hindrance for the Jouishishi faction leader. He simply blasts them right out of the way, leaving a steaming trail of barren street in his wake.

 

He must look ridiculous for chasing someone with his sword held high in the air, but the thought doesn’t really register as important to him right now. Hijikata is notorious for losing himself to tunnel vision, and he hasn’t thought of that as a bad thing until a few moments later when he collides face first into someone.

 

The first thing he feels is pain, naturally. He sits up with a loud curse and spits out blood, which fizzles with sparks until it’s nothing but a faded stain in the snow. He also normally apologizes to the people he runs into, but this is an exception since Gintoki is moaning in exaggerated agony.

 

“Did you just,” he complains nasally, “did you just slam your face into my face? Did you really want to kiss me that badly? Do you usually do freaky stuff like this? I mean, I’m not complaining if you’re into that, but—ow, owww, my precious face is going to bruise and scar because of you!”

 

“I don’t have time for this!” Hijikata snarls, getting up onto his feet and realizing that Katsura has long since escaped. He curses again and retrieves his sword from the ground, noting the location and time before starting to run back to the inn. He needs to notify Kondo and the others, probably send Yamazaki after Katsura alone and scrape his remains off the street as they finally, finally capture the rebel. He feels Gintoki tugging at his wrist and hisses. “Will you quit!”

 

“If that was Zura,” Gintoki tells him as seriously he can with his bloody nose and black eye, “you’re not gonna catch him. Seriously. Just ignore him and go after the real problem here.”

 

“I’m going to go after him,” Hijikata insists and tries to tug his arm away. The grip on his wrist gets tighter. “I’m really going to. Let go of me.”

 

Gintoki lets out a noise of exasperation, standing up and pulling Hijikata into a more secluded area where less people will stare curiously at their exchange.

 

“Okay, fine,” he says, warm breath fanning over Hijikata’s cheeks. “Takasugi and I knew each other as kids. Zu—Katsura was with us too. We had a teacher who taught how,” he jabs one finger at Hijikata’s pendant, and it throbs faintly, “to use these. But Zura’s not the problem here; Takasugi is. You’ve been chasing the wrong person this entire time even with the information that Tatsuma gave you since you won’t _listen_ to me.”

 

“I—” he falters, “So you were actually friends with them? You’re friends with Jouishishi and you never told me? If you’d said so earlier there wouldn’t have been so many problems!”

 

“Friends with Zura, sure,” Gintoki sneers, and he sounds so, so bitter and sad. “His faction is hardly harmful to people nowadays. But no, Takasugi and I aren’t _friends_. The Kiheitai is more of a threat than the Katsura group will ever be. I’ve only been saying this like, I dunno, before Tatsuma even appeared.”

 

When did they get so close? Gintoki has him pressed against a building, and his eyes are gleaming with bright red, vivid ferocity. Their faces can’t be more than a few centimeters apart, and the exchange of their angry breaths in the cold air isn’t nearly as unwelcome as it should be. Hijikata squirms, but Gintoki doesn’t move back, doesn’t let him go. He tries not to look Gintoki in the eyes since they’re really unnerving, and in his search for something else to look at, his eyes chance upon Gintoki’s parted lips. He swallows loudly.

 

“You can let me go now,” he half-whispers, dizzy from their close proximity.

 

“I could,” is the equally soft reply. “I kinda don’t want to, though.”

 

He does, however, because they spring apart when Sougo somehow finds the very specific alley that they’re in and whisper-shouts: “ _Gaaay_.”

 

Hijikata fervently hopes that Sougo’s pants, or better yet his balls, combust.

 

 

+

 

 

In the last month of winter, Yoshiwara is subdued and calm. The majority of criminal activity has flatlined with the Shinsengumi out patrolling the streets. They generally take the first shift with the Hyakka being responsible for the second, and though Hijikata hasn’t completely mastered hiding his presence, he at least avoids Sougo a lot more easily. Kondo still visits the cabaret on his free time, emptying his wallet faster than Yamazaki inhales anpan.

 

On occasion, he’ll sense the same quiet, daunting presence from before, but he’s improved at sliding through the crowds, positioning himself in ways that his shadow blends in with dark architecture. He likes to think that things are getting better, but the Kiheitai still haven’t made their move, and he often wonders if they plan to do so at all. Will they strike once the Shinsengumi have moved out? Are they waiting ironically for the sunlight instead of hiding from it like so many other rebels do?

 

From what he understands, the Kiheitai is a nasty organization that recruits all sorts of illegal Summoners, and the leader is often hidden in the background as silent inspiration. Gintoki doesn’t reveal much other than that they had both learned from the same teacher, but no longer follow the same path. Thinking about it, Hijikata knows this also implies that Gintoki is a former Jouishishi, and perhaps he still is. He’s caught between the line of duty and personal interest. Duty dictates that he arrest Gintoki, and it’s what he’s been raised on for so long that he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

Other than avoiding the matter, that is.

 

 _Gintoki is an idiot,_ a mysterious letter from Katsura reads in elegant calligraphy, _please bear with him._ _He’s also a terrible drunk. Tatsuma sends his regards from the Far East Coast. Also, do you think pink ribbons or red ribbons would suit Elizabeth (she’s my beautiful duck) better?_

 

Attached is a picture of Katsura posing with his duck, one hand positioned in a victory sign. Hijikata burns the photo and has Yamazaki write the reply instead.

 

It’s one of those warmer nights, where the snow hasn’t fallen for days now and instead lies glistening in the streets as patches of slick ice. The wax lanterns sway on their perches like candlelight birds, glowing amidst all the sheen of snow and shadowy wisps of Yoshiwara nights. Hijikata doesn’t like looking at them for too long. Looking at them reminds him of how they reflect off of Gintoki’s piercing gaze and his firm skin; it’s really distracting. He doesn’t like distractions, not when they come in the form of annoying, confusing people.

 

Hijikata walks along the outskirts of Yoshiwara. The city lights are a dim reminder in the distance, and being far from all the chaos of past months is a purging experience. It’s been a while since he’d been able to see the stars, so he tilts his head back and looks for a moment before his eyes start to lose focus. He doesn’t notice the fog closing in on him before it’s shrouded him completely, and so he opens his eyes to a bleak, dull veil that silences even his heartbeat. Even the squalor of his summon is kept at bay, quiet and afraid.

 

He isn’t as panicked as he should be. His only true encounters with the fog are when he had thought Gintoki to be some mysterious, broody guide (which obviously isn’t true), and when Tsukuyo had taken him to the Kaientai zeppelins. This is another mystery he hasn’t solved yet, either, and it ties into Gintoki’s aloof personality that he’s been circling around carefully since day one.

 

Closing his eyes again to try and calm his fluttering heartbeat. It’s futile, really, but it’s the effort that counts. When he squares his shoulders and gazes out at the swirling, silver fog, he falls headfirst into deep memories and the sensation of long black hair wrapping around his throat.

 

 

+

 

 

Somehow, though he has no recollection of it, Hijikata manages to pull himself away from the docks and stagger past the refractive barriers. His heart is pounding and his head is swimming with a million thoughts. If he stands, the vertigo is so strong that he has to brace himself against a wall. He slumps, defeated, and cradles his head within his shaking hands.

 

He remembers war, lots of it. He remembers looking out across plains covered in a thick layer of bodies, the smell of burning flesh and blood, the burn of three suns on his back. He remembers the black magic coursing through his body, the itch at his fingers, standing all alone on a mountain of corpses and looking down upon terrified faces. There’s fire, so much fire. But most of all, there’s unending, insatiable, maddening _hunger_.

 

“So there are other people who can survive encountering that demon,” someone says near him. The voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds like danger and ice. Hijikata looks up to stare at a man dressed in purple, kiseru held delicately in one hand. If he’d had to label this man, Hijikata would definitely use the word _destructive_. Even the half-smile he’s wearing on his thin lips is nothing short of distant. His brilliant jade eye, too, although it is directed at Hijikata, seem to be seeing something else entirely.

 

“Who are you?” Hijikata reflexively reaches for his pendant, and it hums in response.

 

“Just a passerby,” he says, offers a hand. Hijikata takes it, and immediately feels as though he’s made a deal with the devil. “Or so some people would say. I’ve been watching the people who go into that fog.”

 

“They go mad,” Hijikata says, and the man smiles imperceptibly. “Or so I’ve been told.”

 

“Perhaps they do,” the stranger replies lightly and blows out a smooth stream of smoke, sounding oddly like Gintoki whenever he’s trying to talk around a subject. He acts a lot like Gintoki in general, but that may just be Hijikata imagining things. “Perhaps they do not.”

 

He stares openly. The cold sweat is starting to dry on his skin, and even nearing the end of winter, it’s still freezing out. From the side, the sharp, set slant of the man’s jaw seems reminiscent of face in the mirages he’d seen, and that one cold, cold fury eye is like the glint of blood off a sword. It reflects something—what is it—something like bad dreams, something like ill begotten nightmares. Maybe he’s just seeing things. Maybe the fog is secretly made of sake and he’s actually drunk right now.

 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He seems to be saying that a lot nowadays.

 

“I should hope not,” the man grins around his kiseru. “Well, I’ve seen enough. Do be careful on your way back.”

 

“Sure,” Hijikata says hesitantly, watching the man walk off. He later realizes with a start that the stranger had walked _straight into_ the fog, but those steps no longer echo and Hijikata really doesn’t want to dive into that hellish encounter again. He rubs at his head the entire time while walking back, positive that he’s hallucinating, and falls asleep instantly upon contact with his futon.

 

 

+

 

 

“Takasugi Shinsuke was spotted at the docks last night,” Yamazaki reports, looking guilty of oversleeping with his ridiculous bedhead. “Exact details aren’t clear, but we do know that he was definitely there? I think.”

 

“We have pictures of him?” Hijikata asks, surprised. He’s been checking the files repeatedly as has yet to come across a reference photo.

 

“Er, well. The Vice-Captain of the Kaientai sent us copies of their files. Apparently their captain was responsible for the delivery, but he’s lost somewhere on one of the desert islands.”

 

Hijikata holds out his hands for the updated files, burrowing his chin further into his scarf. He skims through the reports, shuffling around for the profile. When he reaches it, his hands still and his eyes widen.

 

“Oi,” he growls, grabbing Yamazaki by the collar and shaking him angrily. “Is that shitty airhead shit playing a prank on us? I’ll kill him! I’ll kill you all!”

 

“Th-the K-Kaientai s-say he’s m-m-missing,” Yamazaki stammers. “He d-d-didn’t s-send the files! The V-Vice Captain s-s-sent us the f-files!”

 

He kicks Yamazaki out into the hallway, stomping over the immobile body to make his way to the docks. Of course, there is no one at the docks but the one person he absolutely does not want to see. He runs over anyways. He feels the need to rant and Kondo is out at the cabaret and Sougo is completely out of the question—

 

“Ah, are you here to visit me?” Gintoki says. “Sorry, but can I entertain you later? I’m kinda busy at the moment—”

 

“Takasugi was here,” he blurts. “He was here last night.”

 

“Oh,” Gintoki says, shifting the parcels in his arms. “Okay?”

 

“I talked to him.”

 

“ _Oh_.” Gintoki frowns, looking at Hijikata like he’s grown another head or two. “You went into the fog without a blindfold, didn’t you?”

 

“No,” Hijikata lies, but Gintoki punches him in the face anyways.

 

“The fog’s part of the reason he can’t really do anything in Yoshiwara,” Gintoki says later, chewing obnoxiously on some dango. “He’s immune to it, sorta-kinda-not-really, but the rest of his motley crew sure isn’t. Once he’s tried unleashing an army of robots in Kabuki, but you know, there are people crazier than me living there. Plus the snow is pretty bad year-round; worse than here, actually. His plans were foiled, obviously. And he never likes doing the dirty work himself.”

 

“You’ve never told me what the fog is,” he grumps. “Or what your summon is.”

 

“That,” Gintoki taps his head, looking stupidly attractive even in all his layers of clothing and scarlet scarf, “is a secret. Maybe you can pry it out of me by being nice in bed.”

 

“Like _hell_ I will.”

 

 

+

 

 

Near the middle of spring, the Shinsengumi get a letter from the Kaientai. It’s signed by Sakamoto Tatsuma (or maybe it’s a forgery, who knows), but sounds distinctly like Mutsu’s diplomatic speech. Hijikata sort of disregards the signature, but Kondo seems to insist that it must be important if it’s from the captain of the Kaientai.

 

“No, if it’s really from the captain, throw it away. Shred it and burn the remains at all costs,” is what he’d said at first.

 

“The P.S is signed by Mutsu,” Yamazaki whispers, and Hijikata snatches the letter immediately.

 

“Plan a short-term summer mission to the south,” he tells Kondo later, who is rubbing some photograph of a woman against his face. “Apparently the Kiheitai are arranging to develop some material there. We’ll catch them in the act and rip Takasugi’s balls off.”

 

“You’re only entitled to ball-ripping if you own a pair, Hijikata,” Sougo pops his gum loudly. “Sorry to say, but I don’t think you’re eligible. Perhaps I’d do a better job.”

 

Another mysterious Katsura letter drops from the ceiling, (what the hell?) and Sougo picks it up to read aloud to the assembly of men in the meeting hall.

 

“‘Dearest Shinsengumi, if you are going south to rip Takasugi’s balls off, the most entitled man would have to be Sakata Gintoki. I can attest to the size of his pair, and I’m sure if you ask your Vice-Commander, he would agree as well. Elizabeth is looking her absolute cutest with her pink ribbons. I bid you all stupendous day. Elizabeth gives her blessings as well. XOXO, Katsura.’”

 

Hijikata feels an evil smile straining at his lips and he reaches for his sword. The men, mightily shocked, still find it in their best interests to evacuate the area immediately. Which is a shame, because Hijikata’s going to hunt them down and have them commit seppuku anyways.

 

“Sougo, you're a dead man.”

 

 

+

 

 


End file.
